


Cold-brew

by garglyswoof



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, Enzo!satyr, F/M, Hybrid Klaus, Lots of mythical creatures making cameos, Non-vampire caroline, but in a supernatural way, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garglyswoof/pseuds/garglyswoof
Summary: Caroline Forbes has her dad's magical powers, her mom's coffeeshop and a host of supernatural friends and clientele  . All of which come into play when Klaus Mikaelson's interest turns to focus on her instead of his typical megalomania. So how does he shake him off, or will the magic surges that threaten to reveal the supernatural community to the humans force them to work together?





	Cold-brew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cupcakemolotov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/gifts).



> I hope this gives you at least a fraction of the joy your fics have given the klaroline fandom. Props to klarolinemashupevent that started the gears turning long ago for a supernatural coffeeshop au.  
> Also, thank you to L for telling me this didn't suck, and A for the play suggestion.

Welcome to Mystic Falls, Virginia, the sign proclaims in bold serif letters, bright with a fresh coat of paint from the last time the senior class of Mystic Falls High tried to change the F to a B. The sign is unlit and almost invisible in this pre-midnight hour, an aside on the edges of a town that is growing by the minute with supernatural tourism.

Because here is where the magic lies. Here is where rumors abound of witches, werewolves, dryads and vampires. Everyone in town has a story about a run-in with a ghost or an Unseelie prince, and the town has thrived from the interest. The supernatural ace in the hole? Mystic Falls has something other communities like Roswell are missing...there’s something more to it than just stories - a vibe that thrill-seekers and the supernatural-obsessed can’t ignore. A feeling. There’s _something_ here, and if folks could _just_ find proof.

A car drives by, brakes flashing as it slows at the curve, lights reflecting on the road still glistening from a late-summer shower. The air flashes with something that could be explained away as lightning, and the smell of brimstone fills the air along with a high-pitched whine that sounds like a television on mute. The population count swings in a sudden gust, creaking on its metal rings that dangle from the town sign, and if you were to look hard enough, you’d see it.

Population 13234-  no 23462  - no 13234 - no 23462 - the sign flickers back and forth, back and forth and it’s not the only thing that’s affected in this time just before midnight. There's a mistake, an anomaly, magic gone wrong.

In a house close to City Hall a man wakes from a dead sleep to a rhythmic clattering beneath his bed. Inching to the end of his bed, he hangs his head over the side and screams at the sight beneath.

A young woman at the club sees an imaginary friend from her childhood. There’s no mistaking the sideburns.

Woken up by thirst, a little boy rubs his eyes and stares at the small creature that’s scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Pleasure turns to pain and the girl screams as her previously “how-in-the-hell-did-I-land-someone-this-hot” date sucks her life force from her neck.

But when the smell disappears and the whine recedes, life returns to as normal as Mystic Falls can be. A momentary lapse of magical reason, as eyes are rubbed in disbelief, lashes flutter, thoughts rationalize and bodies are dumped. The supernatural world hides behind its veil once more, the magic restored.

* * *

 

 “Enzo, could you maybe quit with the banging? I have to get this tea party ready in less than fifteen and it’s hard when you’re slamming everything down on the counter.” Caroline says, her attention focused on a magnifying glass where she’s using an eyedropper to carefully fill a steaming teapot. Tiny bowls of lemon curd and clotted cream sit next to macarons the size of her pinkie nail. Pixie parties are a pain in the ass.  

“Sorry, gorgeous, but I had a bad night - these magic flares are killing my sex life,” Enzo grumbles, and Caroline glances over, eyes trailing up his cloven hoofs to the horns that bracket his forehead. He’s been her right hand...satyr since before her mom died, and she’s rarely seen him so grumpy.

“What happened?”

“Oh nothing big, just a bit of a mood killer when she’s grabbing my arse and it turns furry beneath her grip, wouldn’t you say?” Enzo drawls out.

Caroline stifles a laugh.”Oh my god, what did you do!?”

Enzo raises his voice over the hissing steam as he froths a pitcher of milk. “I ran out, what the hell else was I supposed to do when she’s chasing me, naked, armed with a five-inch stiletto, screaming bloody murder about devil horns?” He freezes, remembering something. “Damn, she has my lucky shirt, too. Hey Caroline, any ch-”

“No way, Enzo. You shouldn’t be messing with humans anyways. Too risky even without weird magic flares. Plus, it’s been a year since you broke up with Maggie. Don’t you think it’s time for another relationship? Something real? With someone you don’t have to hide from?”

“You offering, gorgeous?” Enzo leers and she rolls her eyes. That ship had sailed two days after meeting him. He’s her best bud, but he’s _so_ not relationship material. Then again, neither was Tyler. She focuses back on the dish in front of her, settling the spoons on the plate with tweezers, willing herself to forget her recent breakup and the scars she can only hope will heal fast.

Being a Null kind of sucks. Sure, it lets her see the best of both worlds - human and supernatural, and it certainly helps her keep the cafe’s clientele in line, but the ability to dampen magic at a touch comes at a price. No one feels entirely normal around her, she sucks the energy from supernatural creatures no matter how tight her control, and she makes humans feel edgy from the magic that bleeds off of her.

Caroline’s thoughts are in a tangle as she serves the buzzing crowd of pixies whose excited chatter surrounds her in a cloud. She smiles as she catches snippets of conversation, whispers a congratulations to the bride-to-be and heads over to another table. An Unseelie prince, from the looks of him, arrogant features pulled back in an expression of haughty boredom as he sips on a cup of herbal tea. She’d dated a fae once.

She’d also killed a fae once.

And there's the rub, because power comes at a price. Or, well, whatever you want to call magic that cancels out others’ own powers. She still has nightmares, even after coming to terms with the chaos of when her powers first awakened. She still sees his face pale as her powers suck his magic dry. She still feels the memory of it filling her veins, sometimes, the heady rush of it a private shame.

Not so shamefully, she also remembers rendering Stefan's sleazy douchebag of a brother completely powerless. So no, she wouldn’t give up her magic for anything, despite her regrets.

Wiping a damp rag across the dark maple of a two-top, she shoots a small smile at the clearly human student who’s pretending to type at his macbook while he glances around, studying the clientele. _A superseeker_ , she thinks. This town has a ton of them, as well it should. Mystic Falls has the highest per capita population of supernatural outside of New Orleans, Amsterdam, and Lahore. All four cities that hinge on the power of an ancient witch and her descendants. Because these places hid the supernatural in plain sight. The pixies? To some humans, they looked like buzzing gnats, to the young student aiming for a glimpse of the supernatural, their tea party is merely an older man sipping coffee. Enzo’s horns disappear under human gaze. The tips of the prince’s ears instead round gently and he simply looks like an impossibly beautiful man who’s wandered out of a Renn Fest.

These four cities hold the bindings of Esther and the Mikaelson clan, and allow supernatural to mingle with humans without discovery. Safe spaces that mean more and more in the face of dwindling countryside and fae territories. Places for trade amongst the supernatural and, most of all, places that give the supernatural freedom from the plague of humanity.

It’s really too bad the Mikaelsons are a bunch of murderous assholes hellbent on protecting their advantage and lording their power over any and everyone. Or maybe that’s just her opinion after meeting Klaus Mikaelson.

Who is apparently staring at her from the cash register where Enzo is no doubt gearing up to find new and innovative ways to irritate him. She would totally let him if she didn’t have a business to run.

“What are you doing here, Klaus?” She interrupts before Enzo can rankle the hybrid, glancing at his lean form with a look of irritation. He answers with a smile and a cock of his head that she wishes she didn’t find both predatory and attractive.

“I came by for the best coffee in Mystic Falls, love,” Klaus says, his face dimming as he hears Enzo’s whispered “ _she’s not into you, mate”._ Caroline almost feels sorry for him, _almost_ , as she heads behind the counter and grabs a cup, filling it with dark roast and turning back to the hybrid.

“That’ll be $2.80. And I hope you’re taking it to go? The last time you sat here for hours scaring away all the customers.”

His smile pisses her off. “I’ll be good this time, sweetheart. I was hoping we could have another chat.”

She looks up in astonishment. “Klaus, you compelled my friend to go to New Orleans with you to,” Caroline forms air quotes as she continues, “‘keep the peace’ which is another term for kill all those who oppose you.” She slams his change on the counter and slides it towards him. “What part of ‘I want nothing to do with you’ is unclear?”

Klaus’ mouth pulls down in a petulant expression for just a moment before he remembers to turn it into an unaffected grin. “Not unclear, love. Just intent on changing your mind.” He lifts his coffee in a salute, taking a sip without dropping her gaze, and takes a seat at a corner table as Caroline’s left to wonder why the most bloodthirsty member of the Mikaelsons continues to have his eye focused so firmly on her.

It’s not like they have any positive past to speak of. She wasn’t kidding about Stefan, Klaus had legit compelled her friend into joining him solely because - she thought - he was _lonely._ Apparently him and Stefan had a thing in the 20s, something she thinks might have gone beyond friendship, which is _not hot at all_ she tells herself yet again.

Either way, she’d given Klaus a piece of her mind, so while her and Bonnie had helped free Stefan before he’d done too much damage to himself and others, _excuse her_ if all she sees when she looks at Klaus is a manipulative manchild who sees humans as food and other supernatural as servants.

“He so has a thing for you,” Enzo says from behind her, his voice smug and his palm raised next to her. She groans in response and grabs money from the tip jar, slapping it in his hand as he scoffs. “You can’t pay our bet from my own tip jar!”

“Do you like your job, Enzo?” she says with finality and a twist of her hips as she heads to the kitchen. She has catering for a dryad convention she needs to finish up before three, and she’s spent enough time thinking about Klaus.

* * *

 

Bonnie’s door is marked with the the _In-Session_ sign she uses for client visits, the smell of sage pungent even outside the apartment, so Caroline heads straight into her own place. She’s at the Brew or hanging out with Bonnie far more often than she’s at home, but it’s still home, and she flounces on the couch with an exhausted sigh.

It’s too quiet in the apartment so she turns on the TV before the silence gets to her. She’s trying to wean herself off of calling and listening to her mom’s last voicemail, but it’s hard. The last few years have had some serious rough patches since dropping out of Whitmore, though she’ll never regret spending that time with her mom. They’d never been super close, but they’d _tried_ , especially as the years passed.

It sucks to not have her around, but she knows her mom would be so proud at how she’s taken over the Brew and kept the dream alive. And while her mom hadn’t been the most receptive person in the world when Caroline had first realized her powers, she couldn’t really fault her. Null magic came from her dad, and she knew her mom at least partially blamed it for their marriage’s failure. Caroline thought it far more likely their divorce had been about, you know, her dad being gay, but people rationalize things oddly and her mom had been no exception.

She’s relaxing over a glass of wine when she hears Bonnie’s door open and the slow trudge of her customer down the hall. Grabbing a Blu-Ray and the wine bottle she heads across the hall - Bonnie’s left her door open - and curls up on the papasan chair that she’s totally called dibs on for the last three years. She fluffs the afghan Grams' made around her perpetually-cold feet.

Bonnie calls out from the other room. “Well, my last client was a griffin who wants me to find her babies, but _that_ took a good hour to figure out. It’s really hard to communicate when your client speaks in bird squawks.” She says the last part through the shirt she’s pulling over her head as she walks into the living room. “So what’s good? Anything exciting at the cafe today?”

Caroline leans back in her chair with a noisy exhale. “Nope. Just Klaus coming in _again_.”

“For real? Care, be careful, he’s totally had a thing for you since we helped Stefan.”

“That’s what Enzo says, but I don’t get it?” She pulls her legs under her, reaching across to clink her glass with Bonnie’s in an unspoken toast. “Either way, it’s weird. But not weirder than whatever’s happening with the cloaking spell.”

Bonnie looks at her through her fringe “You noticed that last night too?”

“Nah, I was asleep, but apparently Enzo was having sexytimes with a human and things did NOT go well when the wave hit.”

Bonnie’s face darkens for the briefest of moments and Caroline pounces on it. “Wait, Bonnie, what’s up? Do you have a thing for Enzo? Because if you do I may consider never letting you leave this apartment. Not being judgy but-”

“Care, anytime you have to say “not being judgy” you’re totally being judgy.”

“ _Fine_ , but you guys are my best friends and I know you both better than you know yourselves and -” she trails off, setting her glass down and standing to pace back and forth on the braided rug that sits in front of Bonnie’s couch.

Bonnie looks wary. “I’m not even gonna ask. Look, uh  yeah! Magic! Magic waves! Here’s me with a subject change because you’re plotting something and I’m totally not gonna let you.”

“I was just thinking that maybe you and Enzo wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your planning face on and I'd rather be all 'if it happens, it happens'. Things should happen organically. Like what’s happening with Klaus,” Bonnie teases, pulling her mouth down in an attempt not to laugh.

“Oh no you are _not_ going there.”

“You know you love me when I’m ruthless.”

* * *

 

Caroline unlocks the door to her cafe with a smile. There’s something about opening the place, before the customers get there and before Enzo’s endless teasing, that centers her. She sets a pot of coffee to brew and tamps down some espresso for her own morning caffeine fix. The ancient espresso machine on the back counter is her pride and joy, a copper-gilt apparatus that glints in the morning sunlight and makes the best cappuccinos she’s ever tasted in her life. She has the bigger machines for the morning rush, but she always makes her own using the old press.

She turns on the radio, a local station with the two morning DJs she’s grown up listening to. There’s a contest on, and Caroline listens idly while prepping the self-serve tea station. Enzo strolls in around 6:00, the self-satisfied grin on his face clearly indicating that last night wasn’t interrupted by weird magic waves.

Which, damn it, she really needs to ask Klaus about, when she isn’t so busy being irritated by him. The other night hadn’t been the first time the cloaking spell had faltered in the town, and she’d read rumors that it had happened in New Orleans as well, She’d also be willing to bet that the huge pileup on the KLM just outside Lahore last month was caused by more than just inattentive drivers, if the stories from survivors indicate anything.

The magic has sustained the illusions for almost a thousand years. So what’s happening now? Caroline couldn’t help but wonder, thinking of the high price the loss of supernatural anonymity would bring to the town. With land being built up by humans and the world’s population continuing to boom, supernatural had only three choices: be a fae and live in the faerie world, which, _no thank you,_ she liked her Earth life, live in one of the four cities, or keep on the run.

Humans are simply too numerous to not be a threat. Which is another reason why Klaus’ actions piss her off so much. Being discovered was a real concern to most supernatural in the modern age - the monsters beneath beds, the brownies in the kitchens, the little folk that she leaves out milk and honey for as a gift -  all these creatures who would die if they were exposed. So Klaus feasting on human life and jeopardizing the safe place his own family created, accidentally or not, doesn’t make sense.

And for that matter, why kill everyone else when you can’t be killed yourself?

Ugh, she’s tired of thinking about him. Why is she thinking about him again? She grabs a sheet of proofed dough from the warming racks prepped by her night staff and pops it in the oven, and it isn’t too long before the smell of baking bread mingles with coffee and really, is there any better smell?

The door jangles as Enzo returns from setting up the outdoor tables, still clearly in a better mood than yesterday despite the early hour. He vaults over the wide wooden counter, something Caroline has lectured him on countless times so of course he still does it, and pours himself a cup from the carafe, downing it one shot and refilling.

“Easy on the caffeine, Enz,” Caroline calls out.

“I’m a satyr. It’s either this or wine,” Enzo grins at her as she walks behind the counter, her arms waving madly as if to stop his idea from forming.

“Oh my GOD have all the coffee you want. I never want to attend another AA meeting with you as long as I live. You so owe me for being a good friend."

His grin turns impish. “What? Fred hitting on you was the highlight of 2013!”

Caroline smacks his arm, glower in full effect.  “Fred was a river demon who smelled like rotting sewage, suggested eating children as a good first date, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You mean like Klaus?”

“Klaus is differ- Never mind.” She knows it’s too late, that Enzo senses the blood in the water, and she scurries to the back to avoid his inevitable mockery, pushing into the freezer through the plastic curtain.

“Hi Boss.” A voice with a thick Jersey accent reminds her - she hired that snow imp to fix the freezer two days ago. Ugh. She’s really not in the mood for idle chit-chat.

“Hey Clarence, I’m just grabbing some frozen fruit for morning smoothies. How’s it going?”

“It’ll be charged up in no time, just an old unit,” Clarence says with a goofy grin that defies all his razor-sharp teeth, patting the edge of the thermostat he’s perched on. Caroline leaves him to his chilly work, grabbing some mango chunks and the frozen honeysuckle nectar faeries likes to use for sweetener.

Enzo’s waiting for her up front with an evil grin, almost dancing on his hooves in excitement, and Caroline puts up a hand.

“Do. Not. Or I’ll call Kol and tell him you miss him.”

Enzo narrows his eyes at her, impressed. “That's some dirty pool, Forbes.”  

She brushes by him with a breezy smile, pulling the shades up at the front of the cafe to let the morning light bathe the wooden tables. “Oh would you look at the time, you know Jim will start scorching the glass if we don’t open exactly at 6:30.”

Sure enough, the chimera is pacing back and forth in front of the doors, his goat head letting out a pleased huff as Caroline unlocks and bends to scratch his chin. He bounds up onto the couch, tail twitching as he waits.

“Got your usual coming right up, Jim. How’s old Mz. Landis doing?” Caroline calls back with a smile as she stuffs pastries inside a paper sack. The chimera’s a pet of a gorgon, and after the last three times Caroline had to turn her customers back from statues, she’d made a deal. To-go orders only.

Jim’s lion mouth yawns in feigned disinterest and Caroline shrugs, listening to the bell over the door jangle and Enzo’s hooves clatter on the tiled floor, the warm morning light spreading across the cafe in a benediction.

Sometimes life just fit all the pieces together.

* * *

 

It’s the fifth day in a row that Klaus Mikaelson is sauntering in to Mystic Brew and Caroline wants to know _why._ He’s at the counter glowering at something Enzo is saying, his fists white-knuckling with anger, when Caroline grabs his arm and pulls him to sit next to the sun room where a pair of dryads are basking in the amplified light.

“OK, Klaus, this weird coffee kick of yours isn’t fooling me. Why are you here?”

He stretches his legs out, his eyes settling on hers with the laser-focus of his regard. “Isn’t it obvious? I fancy you.”

“You can’t...fancy me. I hate you,” Caroline responds, brows furrowed in confusion. Klaus responds with a smile and a hand to his chest, as if wounded.

“Do you hate me because of Stefan? He’d become so straight-laced, I was just reintroducing some fun into his life.”

“Forcing my friend to return to his ripper state to kill innocent supes and humans is _not_ introducing fun. It’s introducing chaos that he’s still paying penance for.”

Klaus rolls his eyes, settling his feet back and leaning towards her, arms crossed on the table between them. “Is he still doing that broody thing?” Klaus brushes his hair up and assumes a pained expression that’s such a horribly bad imitation of Stefan that Caroline has to turn her laugh into a cough because she will not give him the satisfaction. She meets his eyes with a glare, because Enzo and Bonnie's teasing is fresh in her mind, and she's _not interested._

“You consider not killing people as straight-laced and boring, and that says more about this than anything I can possibly come up with,” Caroline pauses for a moment, finger to her lips in faux consideration, “but, you know what? I’ll give it a try.” At Klaus’ infuriating smile, she begins ticking points off her fingers, her voice rising with each. “One, we’re only a few magical alterations shy of humanity, so why you’re so disdainful of humans is a mystery to me. Two, you hate your own kind, killing werewolves and vampires who get in your way. Three, you treat the Fae like garbage unless they’re doing your will.” She narrows her eyes at him in study, clearly gearing up for the killing blow. “You’re incapable of relating with anyone or anything, and that’s the saddest thing I can think of.”

He stares for a moment, his jaw sharp and smile a memory, before he responds. “I don’t recall asking for your pity, Caroline.” The chair scrapes as he pushes back to rise with uncharacteristic stiffness, and yet again, Caroline almost feels bad. She’s wounded him, and the understanding that he _can_ be wounded makes her heart clench, just a little.

She sees Enzo’s doubletake at her expression and he calls out across the cafe with a question he already knows the answer to, because he’s the best. “Sweetheart, where are the baking sheets? We’re almost out of unicorn cookies.”

“Second shelf below the sprinkles, Lorenzo. Don’t forget to take the brownies out before you turn the oven on.”

High-pitched voices raise in a clamor as she finishes her sentence, Enzo already opening the oven doors. Two tiny figures emerge, faces covered in soot and grease from their cleaning, and Caroline points towards the back entrance. “Do _not_ trudge through my cafe with that mess! You guys know better! And there’s fresh cream by the door.”

* * *

 

“Klaus is approaching writing-bad-poetry levels of infatuation with you,” Enzo comments a few days later. It’s slow in the cafe, and they’re taking advantage, relaxing in one of the corner booths over a late lunch. Caroline tosses a grape at Enzo, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah well, I’m not into him so the point is moot,” Caroline says.

“Kol’s even been texting me asking what his brother is doing spending five days a week at a coffee shop. This isn’t normal behavior for him.” Caroline’s heart oddly flips at this, but she ignores it as Enzo continues. “You’re definitely attracted to him, why not have a fling with the big bad hybrid?” Enzo emphasizes with air quotes and Caroline rolls her eyes.

“I need more than hotness to be attracted to someone. That was the _old_ Caroline. Now I want things like, you know, sanity, and a lack of homicidal urges,” her tone is teasing, but she’s honestly worried she’s even affected by Klaus. Because that’s the thing, she _is_ affected. Her fingers brush over the paper in her apron pocket. It’s the furthest thing away from bad poetry - a drawing, her face stretched in a grin as she leans over a table with a cleaning rag. A moment she doesn’t even remember and she’s so struck by that - this little inconsequential point in time, part of the daily grind, but on the page her eyes are sparkling with laughter and she thinks, maybe for the first time in her life, that she’s beautiful instead of merely pretty.

And that’s the power in the pencil strokes that bear this out, a clear admiration and an insistence in the lines and shadows and crosshatches that form this version of her face. Because this is how he sees her, and she finds herself wanting to know what else he sees.

So when she comes back in the cafe from a grocery run, Caroline glances at the tooled leather book in Klaus’ broad palm and can’t resist.

“I hope you know I have the right to refuse service to anyone and my decision hinges on which version of _Electra_ you like better.”

Klaus looks up from the tragedy with a pleased grin that’s entirely too boyishly adorable for his monster’s face. He sets the book down and tilts his head, grin turning to something more calculating with his reply. “Let’s see. Are you a fan of Euripedes’ smoother prose? Or do you agree with myself and Sophocles that personal vengeance equates with justice?” He ignores Caroline’s snort, placing a long finger to his lips and tapping in thought even as she answers.

“Euripedes. All the way. Sophocles doesn’t touch any of the moral questions, he’s just wham bam thank you let’s kill mom and her lover m’aam."

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t do anything to avenge your family’s death? Or a friend’s?”

Caroline opens her mouth to retort but realizes, with that feeling that hits when opinions have changed when you haven’t been looking, that she agrees with him. Still, stubbornness won't let her admit it out loud.

“Yeah, well, Sophocles was sexist and gave Orestes the better part.”

Klaus’ smile turns devilish. “Caroline,” he drawls, “I bet you made an excellent Electra on the Whitmore stage. Fire and vengeance and beauty.”

“I would have been better in Euripedes’ version,” she huffs in answer. She misses acting sometimes, and seeing that gold-leafed title on Klaus’ book has sparked fond Whitmore memories. She crosses her arms, foot tapping as she stares at Klaus. “Well?”

“What, love? I already agreed you’d be stunning,”

“How did you even know I was in theater?”

“I like to learn all I can about you, love. Your hopes, your dreams.” It’s a cheesy line but it still hits her, as all of his declarations of undivided attention seem to.

“Just ask next time, instead of creepily checking up on me.” She realizes her slip a moment too late and he jumps in before she can take it back.

“Thanks for the invitation, love.”

There’s little time to think about her slip-up, but it's there in the back of her mind as she prepares and serves high tea to a party of lamiae, their sinuous tails curled under them in an extra large booth. The cafe is bustling now, and she has to send Enzo on break when two nymphs come in for some sugar water. He is a satyr, after all. Luckily April, her part-time baker, is here and covers the front while Caroline serves and clears tables.

She’s had to use her powers already on a grumpy banshee who’d sworn Enzo had served her whole milk instead of soy, and the exhaustion sits deep in her bones. Null magic is weird like that. Sometimes it fills her with energy when she quenches another’s, sometimes it sucks her dry.

There’s also been a ton of humans today, and she’s getting ready to make the surfer-looking dude who’s been nursing a ham and cheese croissant at table 7 leave unless he orders something else. She's almost at his table when the pulse of magic that echoes through her chest in a rumble stops her in her tracks.

At first she thinks it’s some weird side-effect from stopping that banshee’s cry - the bitch had been "let me speak to your manager" levels of annoying, aside from the wailing - but everyone is looking up as if they feel it too. Including the humans. Chicken salad lady from table two with the cute bob is staring in dumbfounded horror at the hobgoblin across from her. A young mother cooing at her baby shoves her child’s car seat behind her and screeches in alarm.

Oh dear.

The magic pulses again, and her eyes find Klaus’ in the chaos. His own gaze is narrowed, but he doesn’t look surprised, and Caroline’s not sure if he’s just that unflappable or if he knows what’s going on. She doesn’t have time to wonder though, because there’s a lamia slithering over towards surfer dude, the scent of fear engaging the snake-woman's primal instincts, and he’s frozen with shock.

“Klaus!” she cries out and he glances over and lifts his head in a nod, flashing in front of a lamia and grabbing at a scaled arm. Caroline inches her way in front of the human mom, intent on protecting her and the child and trying to calm her down by blocking her view. The sound of screeching brakes and the forgone conclusion crunch of metal filters through the windows, and what seems like the entire parking lot blares a symphony of discordant alarms.

How quickly a scene can turn to chaos. But how quickly can it return? Because when the cafe shudders in the wake of another pulse, she hears the mother behind her hiccuping with tears and a sniffled “wh..what?” The magic settles in a sigh, and it - whatever it is, is over for now with only the aftermath, and the questions that come with it, draping over the cafe like a veil.

Caroline eyes the humans one-by-one, their stares still caught on the lamiae now replete with human legs and normal-looking pupils, on the hobgoblin who's back to an old man with a kindly face, and Caroline watches the struggle of human nature with conscious thought. They’re trying to rationalize what’s just happened, trying to fit it into their worldview. But these are Mystic Falls folks, their eyes are narrowed in calculation, they’re not so quick to give up on what they’ve seen.

She watches as their faces slacken in the wake of a blur. Klaus is compelling them, and honestly? She’s relieved, because having humans find out about the supernatural side of Mystic Falls isn’t remotely on her top ten things to do before she dies list. A thought strikes, and she’s at Klaus’ elbow, murmuring lowly. She doesn’t miss his breath catching at her proximity, and doesn’t have a moment to wonder why she’s let herself get so close.

“What about the rest of the town?” she asks, but he’s already throwing her an apologetic look and his phone is at that full mouth of his, barking orders, and she has that moment she just said she didn’t before, and she realizes something.

She trusts him.

 

* * *

 

Enzo insists on escorting her to her apartment door that evening, so when he sees Klaus leaning against it, he wiggles his eyebrows at her with a shocked expression. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

She pushes past him with annoyance. “There’s nothing to tell, Enzo, I don’t know why he’s here.”

“Sure, Forbes. Either way, I’m glad you’ll have someone around tonight in case the magic surges again.

She turns back, jabbing her finger at his chest with a huff of irritation. She hears a laugh behind her. “He’s _not_ staying. And I can take care of myself, St. John.”

He holds his hands out in supplication. “Oh man, pulling out the last name. I’m sorry, you’re a strong independent null who don’t need no man, I know, I know.” He winks at her and she makes an exasperated noise before he pulls her into a hug, saying his next words into her hair. “I know you can handle anything, gorgeous. But what’s going on isn’t normal, so you’ll have to forgive me for being a little bit worried. Ok?” It’s uncharacteristically sweet of him, and it’s only when he starts rubbing her back with his palm that she realizes what he’s doing. She laughs. “You’re such a dick.”

“But i’m _your_ di- yeah nevermind,” he stops himself in time, grinning at her and saying goodnight with a nod and another eyebrow wiggle. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Klaus is glowering as she walks up the hallway. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but we need to talk.”

Caroline snorts. “Enzo’s my best friend. _So_ not my date. Not that that’s any of your business.”

His shoulders relax and she marvels at how transparent he is to anyone that bothers to look. She continues in a less biting tone. “So what’s the damage? How many people did you have to compel?”

His eyes dart to the right and back and she sighs. “Please don’t tell me you killed people.”

“OK love, I won’t.” He moves aside as she pulls her keys out of her purse, the jangling loud in the narrow hallway. She huffs another sigh, pushing the door open, and decides to not press it until she hears what he knows.

“So what’s the deal, Klaus? It’s your family’s spell. Can someone even mess with it?”

He looks at her for permission before settling on her couch. He’s not a large man, but he’s a constant reminder, a pull at the senses, an impossibility to ignore. She turns away just to try, but his low voice pulls her attention back. His words are a surprise.

“I don’t know, that’s why I need your help.”

“My help? Wh- wait, is that why you’ve been hanging around Mystic Brew? You need my null magic?” She feels strangely angry, like the last few weeks have been a fraud. She looks at the glass of scotch she’s poured for him and downs it herself instead.

“No, sweetheart. Nulls aren’t exactly uncommon, nor would I have waited this long to ask.” He turns that unshakable regard towards her, the devil hiding in the dark shadows below his cheekbones. “I come because I want you, love. Make no mistake."  Her eyes flicker away from the desire in his own. He lifts a hand as if to touch her face, and slides it into his pocket instead with visible effort.

"What I tell you can not leave this room, Caroline.” His voice holds a threat in it that’s almost apologetic and she tries to hold back an incongruous laugh.

 "Ok, just tell me. What is it?”

“The spell is tied to the land. The first one, here in Mystic Falls, was an accident borne of our creation. Mother wished to protect us, and so she made us monsters, and the magic bled.” He turns to idly look around the room and Caroline wonders if he's feeling these thousand-year-old memories just as vividly as he did then. “It seeped into the land where the spell was cast and spread. It took us a while to realize, we thought perhaps the magic of our turning protected our monster's side from detection by the humans. It was until Bekah discovered the spell’s borders that we realized it was another way to protect us.”

“Wait, what?”

Klaus’ jaw works, the muscles playing, and the room is silent save the ticking of her mom’s old grandfather clock. “Mother turned us to protect us when my little brother was killed by villagers - we are monsters because of the monstrosity of man. But we didn’t really know our powers at that time - things would go quite differently now. And do,” his voice rasps out, angry, a way to convince himself that’s long since turned to belief.

Realization dawns, though it isn’t an excuse to Caroline. Just an explanation. She tries not to let this information sway her, but the brain can’t process a negative.

He continues when she doesn’t speak, though he checks her face first. He’s worried about her opinion, she can tell, and it's another crack in the ice of her once-solid dislike. “It dawned on us, the power that we held from the knowledge of the spell, and Bekah was the first to expand our territory. Kol chose Pakistan to get as far away as possible from Elijah's wrath, something about his suits-”

“Seriously? Kol? _That's_ why he knows Urdu. I wonder if Enzo knows.” Caroline bounds up from the arm of the couch she’s been resting on, searching for her phone.

“I thought I recognized that beast from somewhere,” Klaus says, smoothly catching the pillow Caroline tosses at his head at the insult. “Him and Kol were quite the match.”

“Yeah they were….not good for each other. I think they went through half the nymph population of Mystic Falls together. It was not a good look.”

“My brother isn’t known for his decorum, unlike his older sibling.”

Caroline looks askance, holding her hand to her chest in faux shock. “Is Klaus Mikaelson making a joke?” He makes a ‘who, me?’ face and they both laugh, though she looks down when his eyes drop to her lips and she’s reminded that she’s sitting on her couch with one of the most hated creatures in the supernatural world. She’s having a hard time reconciling, so she steers the conversation back.

“So, you need my help?”

His eyes narrow at the sudden brusqueness of her tone, but he responds to her question all the same. “We have to go to where the spell lies, and I can’t do it without a Null’s help. The magic is too strong there, more ancient than even me,” the smile returns, “and we need to see what we can find. If it’s someone tampering with the spell, it will be obvious, the pattern caught in the magic’s web.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. It’s...a bit of... an experience. I’ve only experienced it once, with a Null way less in control of his power than you.”

Caroline’s brows draw together, wondering how he knows the extent of her control, before she stands and stretches, his eyes tracking her movements. “We really need to talk about boundaries, Sir Stalks-a-Lot, but that’s going to have to wait.”

Klaus looks up at her, bemused, and she calls back behind her, one hand on the doorknob. “What are you still sitting there for? We have a magic pulse thingie mystery to solve.”

* * *

 

Klaus’ car is a surprisingly pedestrian Acura, but Caroline’s too busy texting Enzo and April to pay much attention. She’s going to need someone to cover the cafe tomorrow, at least for a few hours, since it’s already late evening. She figures they owe her since she’s about to save the world, after all. They’re heading towards the Falls, the tires clattering over Wickery Bridge where she rolls down her window to toss a sack of rockbiscuits to the troll beneath.

“Let me guess, you never pay Lydia’s toll,” she grouses and Klaus’ mouth pulls in a frown.

“They live here because of my family’s rule, love.”

“No, creatures live here because of the spell.” She pokes him in the chest. “Big difference!”

He laughs and her anger increases. “Don’t you dare laugh!”

“Never at you, love.” His voice is so serious in response that her rage melts away and she’s left discomfited.

Past the turnoff for the falls, circling around the old Lockwood property - she barely thinks about Tyler - they pull onto a gravel road, car jostling in the ruts. After a few uncomfortable miles the gravel trickles out and it’s just a muddy track where Klaus stops the car, flashing around to open her door. She’s caught between a pleased smile and an eye roll in reaction, but murmurs a thanks. She’s never been out this way, though it’s almost dead center Mystic Falls. She wonders why it isn’t heavily developed.

“There’s a spell that makes this place invisible, well, in a way,” Klaus calls back as if answering her unspoken query. “People drive out here but they always forget once they leave. We couldn’t have anyone developing over the magic’s source.”

Caroline nods though he can’t see, pushing through the high grass as she walks behind him, studying his profile when he turns his head so that she can hear his voice.

“This will be the first time my family has fully breached this magic in eight hundred years.”

“Why did you try before?

“I didn’t try. My stepfather tried to kill me with it. My real father's latent null magic saved me, but killed him.” He turns away, walks faster as Caroline’s left in the wake of that statement. She’s at a loss for words, but by the time she finds them he’s stopped in his tracks, pulling out a necklace from beneath his shirt. It’s a wolf fang, Caroline recognizes, and he pulls it over his head and holds it up, the cord gently swinging. There’s a smell of brimstone and a faint hum and he looks over at her, traces of his last words still lingering in the set of his mouth. She’s confused, unsure what to do.

“I need your power, love. The necklace has dropped the barrier, but i need you to make a path through.” His gaze is confident and she wonders how he can be so sure of her.

She closes her eyes to center herself, finding the place within that used to scare her in its nothingness, and gathers it, pictures pushing it up and out through her outstretched hands. She squints hard, eyes still shut, then blinks twice before finding Klaus’ widened stare. He stands to the side, giving her a wide berth, and she pushes forward, the high-pitched whine sounding more like a scream as they push their way through the magic. It’s slow-going, and she curves and winds her way to the center, avoiding pockets of stronger magic to opt for the path of least resistance. It’s exhausting and exhilarating all at once. Energy pushes and pulls like she’s the tide and it’s only when Klaus murmurs behind her that she stops.

And immediately sees it too. It’s a coating, a contagion, a vein of sickness weaving through the magic.

“That’s a witch’s work.” There’s barely-tamped anger in his voice and, for once, Caroline can’t blame him.

“But why?”

“Someone who wants control, someone who’ll swoop in and solve the problem by lifting the spell as a hero with my family the villains, someone who wants to reveal all supernatural - witches can live in the human world with no issues.” He shrugs. “There are a thousand motivations I can dream up, and thousand ways I will kill them for it.”

When she thinks about the damage this spell is causing, could cause, the upending of lives, Caroline can’t help but think she might just forgive him when he does.

She kneels down, hand to the blight, and pushes at it, not wanting to pull that magic but use her power to splinter the spell until it’s nothing in a different way. And here in the presence of so much magic, she’s got enough to keep her filled, a perpetual battery; she blasts away the phage bit by bit, almost drunk on the magic that courses through her. She hears Klaus’ sharp inhale behind her, thinks he must be feeling this too.

“What’s it like for you?” She doesn’t need to clarify.

“Like I could close my hand and the world would crush in my grip.”

Despite the magic, she scoffs. “OK, Mr. Megalomaniac.”

“What about you? I know you feel it more. I know, too, that you like it, using your magic, feeling a part of the whole. We’re much the same, sweetheart.”

She wants to tell him to go to hell, but realizes that’s from habit more than anything else, so it’s not at all a help that his eyes are dark and covetous when she looks up. Here, in the midst of magic thrumming through her veins, almost overwhelming in its intensity, it’s somehow his gaze that threatens to consume her.

She breaks the eye contact first, though it feels like backing down. It’s too much, all at once, and while she’s great at multitasking, both the magic and Klaus demand full attention. The contagion is broken, the spell shattered, and she idly wonders if the witches know, if it hurts them when a spell breaks. She’ll have to ask Bonnie. She hazards a glance at Klaus and nods her head in a way that’s almost uncertain, because it’s hard to look at him now that the pieces have clicked into place.

They make their way back slowly, eventually reaching the boundary where his wolf fang’s magic reseals the gate. Her skin is oversensitized, she feels limned in magic, like it’s coming out of her on every exhale, the sweet high of it tingling along the fine hairs on her arms. When Klaus looks up, she sees his blown pupils and barely suppresses a sound of need in the back of her throat. She has to get home. Get away. Pull him close. It’s too much. Not enough. Her head spins.

His hand is there, suddenly, an anchor weighing down her shoulder and though the touch sends spirals through her, it also brings her back down to earth. Her breathing slows as he gives her a moment, his eyes studying her, nostrils flaring at his own struggles with the heady magic.

They find their way back to the car, the mundanity of this hunk of steel and glass almost mocking in its contrast to what they’ve just experienced. Pulling back onto the semblance of road, his concentration is focused both ahead and somewhere else all at once, so Caroline takes a moment to study his face, the sharp angles and studied scruff, alit in the faint lights from the console.

He’s objectively beautiful, his full lips dark with color, and she wonders what they would taste like. Her gaze drops to his throat, those bands of leather resting in a cascade down his chest and she wonders what would happen if she told him to pull over right _now_ because she’s shifting in her seat, anything to relieve the building pressure in her core, as if the magic is seeking its own release through her. And what the fresh hell is this? she thinks, trying to steer her thoughts back to less dangerous subjects. Sure, he’s attractive, and while he’s still retaining the Evil Incarnate title in her mind she finds that, somehow, it’s become evil with a small e. Like...you know, if evil was even remotely acceptable and what the hell is she thinking?

She lets the deep ruts of the road jolt her thoughts away, but when they hit the main highway and Klaus turns his gaze to her, the fire in his eyes almost makes her lose it. Desire pools deep, and she sees now the grit to his jaw, as if he’s been clenching his teeth. His hands shift on the wheel and she hazards a glance, seeing their white-knuckle grip reveal the tension. He is just as affected, his eyes dropping to her lips before reluctantly tearing themselves back to the road and she could scream because all she wants are those blown pupils watching her every move.

“Klaus?”

“Caroline,” her name, strung out on the passing highway, trailing for miles.

Her pulse jumps.

She shifts, rubbing her thighs together. His hands grip the wheel hard, the cords of his neck tightening with visible strain.

It’s as if these motions are sounds punctuating the silence like heartbeats. Drums. She licks her lips and says, “Pull over.”

His nostrils flare and the car lurches to the side of the road, dust kicking up from the tires as they hit the shoulder and roll to a less-than-smooth stop. He turns to her, hands still gripping the wheel like an anchor.

“It’s the magic, Caroline.”

She twists in her seat and leans towards him across the console, her breath shaky with lust. “I know. But it’s not just that and I,” her voice turns plaintive and Klaus groans as she says it, “please.”

His seat slams back and she’s up and over the gearshift, straddling him, and her hair is caught in his hands as his lips slide up her neck. She’s already a wreck and grinds down on his lap, desperate for relief, and his breath hitches as her hips circle. He slides a hand up the smoothness of her back, lifting her shirt up, and the hand still caught in her hair pulls her back so that she rests against the steering wheel as he kisses up her chest, circling the sides of her breasts. She’d gone without a bra today and is certainly not regretting that choice now as he nips at the underside, his tongue darting out but still so far away from where she wants it. She feels his lips stretch in a smile at her frustrated noise and grabs his face to pull into a kiss, tracing the edges of his mouth with her tongue and biting at his bottom lip before licking inside.

A car races by, the sedan shaking in the rush of air, and she pulls away, Klaus chasing after her mouth with hunger. He drops his lips to her neck and splays his hand across her hip, his thumb dipping into the waistband of her jeans. She circles her hips just to hear him groan and then it’s a blur of sound and noise, the shriek of metal and the rush of air. His smell. The squeak of old hinges. Her legs hitting something soft, then his lean body stretching across. She blinks a few times, registering the bed beneath her.

“I couldn’t ravish you properly in a car, love.”

“Is this even your house?”

He laughs, his breath warm against the skin of her neck and she arches in his grip, sliding her hands up his back and taking the henley with it. He’s tattooed, birds rising from a feather, and she rubs her thumb across the ink as he leans in, his necklaces trailing up her chest.

Her own shirt is torn off and thrown somewhere she’ll have a hard time finding later; they’re both so charged from the magic that going slow is out of the question.

“Lift your hips, Caroline.” She obeys and his fingers curl into her jeans, under her panties, hands digging into the flesh of her ass as he drags her pants down. He rises up on his knees, mouth parted as he stares down at her, and the expression on his face has her sliding her hands down to her clit just to get some relief. He closes his eyes briefly, as if it’s an unbearable sight, and then her hips are canted up and his tongue is gliding up her slit and she’s lost. He fucks her with his tongue as she rubs her clit and it’s mere seconds before she’s coming with a cry and trying to push him away, oversensitive, but he holds her hips down, finally sliding up her body, his lips gleaming with her release.

She groans at the sight and surges up to lick her come off his lips, and she grumbles at the fact that he’s still in his jeans, sliding the zipper down and reaching in to grab his cock. It’s his turn to groan and his pants are off before he’s back on the bed and sliding up her body, her chest rubbing his as he fills her. Her legs hook behind his back, and he braces a palm on the headboard as he slams into her, his eyes wild. There’s nothing gentle here, but it’s everything she could want, the residual magic like static on her skin, his touch and taste and feel filling her up til she’s drunk with it. He spins them so that she sits in his lap as he thrusts up into her, and she grinds down, her clit rubbing against him with every stroke. His mouth is at her neck, then the lobe of her ear, accented voice a low murmur that turns her on even more.

“How does it feel to be wrapped around my cock, Caroline? Do you know how I've thought about being buried in your heat? How your eyes would watch my own, just like this, because you’ll never back down even when I hit you just right and the pleasure fills you.” He punctuates his words with a twist of his hips and she struggles to keep her eyes open despite his words. She lets her moan and her orgasm take the edge off instead, because he’s perfect, and she’s on her back now, boneless from pleasure, as he takes his fill, lips on her, dark words murmured into her skin, his hand punching through the headboard as he comes.

The sound of their ragged breaths fills the room and she waits for the regret to hit. But it doesn’t. Familiarity is supposed to breed contempt, but in this case Klaus has sunk beneath her skin with his unwavering regard, and she can’t bring herself to be upset. She even tries, lying there with her skin still humming, tries to think of what Klaus did to Stefan, tries to think of his disregard for human life, and she finds herself unwilling to care. And maybe that’s a testament to how she’s really not a good person, but she knows who she is, what being a part of the magical community has taught her.

Either way, it’s too much thinking when she has those hands resting on the curve of her hips and magic still thrumming through her veins. She turns her head, brow curved in a question, and his answering kiss is all she needs.

* * *

 

Caroline’s never traveled the world before, but now is as good a time as any. Bonnie’s running the cafe with Enzo while her and Klaus beeline to Lahore, Amsterdam, New Orleans. It’s certainly no chore to have him alongside as she clears the contagion from the core of the magic. Nor is the ridiculous amount of amazing sex they have as the magic courses through their bodies afterwards. Though there’s no real need for magical enhancement, as she finds out, a thousand years of experience and off-the-charts chemistry is really all they ever need anyways.

She thinks of leaving the witch hunt to him, but decides she wants to know who and why. So when the coven just outside of the French Quarter tries to bring Klaus to his knees with an aneurysm, she’s quick to use her own powers to suck them dry. As they’re human, her magic can’t kill them, but it does leave them powerless for enough time to find out the plan, their reasoning. And it’s just as Klaus suggested what seems like a million years ago - a rogue coven intent on becoming the top (and only) head of the supernatural world, a spell developed over the course of generations to find and poison the cloaking magic's source.

Caroline wonders at the logic of it. What’s there to rule when you’ve given up your kingdom? Here in New Orleans, the pulses were worse, the area affected larger, the death toll as humans freaked out higher. Caroline makes a choice, and watches, dry-eyed, as her choice kills the coven. It’s a lesson that she’s determined to learn, because he’s not one to change and she’s already done so.

That’s not to say that there’s not a new side to Klaus, but it’s more a revelation of something she’s always seen, once she bothered to look. He offers her moments of mercy as shy gifts and she laughs, because it’s just like him to think it a sacrifice. And he learns to not storm out when she does, because it’s just like her to ask him to stay. And as she flips the cafe’s sign to Open, Jim on his haunches growling at the door and Enzo singing along to pop radio in his hilariously off-key voice, Klaus still asleep in their bed, that she marvels at how life can feel full until something makes it moreso.


End file.
